Insert Creative Drabble Title Here
by Eloise05
Summary: A series of drabbles on a variety of subjects. You can even submit suggestions if you like. If there are any pairings I will announce them before the respective drabble. Multi-chapter
1. Chapter 1

**1. Knight**

Private didn't really mind when people laughed at his name. Not Private. His real one, Percy. Some said it was so stereotypically British, others that it sounded stupid or silly. He really loved his name, because his mother chose it for him.

His mother had loved fairy tales and stories with damsels in distress and brave knights that save them, just like Private does now. She had chose his name after her favourite knight, Perceval, one of King Arthur's legendary men, in the hope that some of his nobility and chivalry will transfer to her son with it.

**2. Phone call**

Skipper was in the kitchen fixing himself the second cup of joe of the day, when the phone in the HQ's living room started ringing. He eyed it, but decided to let the machine answer it. He waited stirring his coffee.

As soon as the answering message ended a high pitched, warbly female voice rang through. Skipper startled and the coffee in his mug sloshed lazily about.

'Hi, Rico! It's me Shelly, in case you forgot. I wrote a poem for you this time! "Thine eyes…"'

Before the piece of … art could go any further, Skipper pushed a button on the phone and the living room was restored to silence. He went to the stairs that led to the first floor where their sleeping quarters were and yelled.

'Rico, your stalker called again!' The only answer he got in return was an 'Oh, brother!'

**3. Interpreter needed**

Kowalski had noticed this before. Every time they ran into Hans, after a few minutes he and Skipper would start conversing in Danish and leave them out of the loop. Comparing it with English and with the German he knew (quite well, if he could say so himself) he could make a very little more sense of the language. But it was still better than nothing. By the words that he could vaguely distinguish it didn't sound like they were fighting or being aggressive at all. Something else was nagging him, though. Who taught Skipper Danish in the first place?

**4. Car keys**

Skipper came back inside the HQ patting his trouser pockets, then his jacket pockets.

'Rico, do you have the car keys?'

'Yes.'

He expected the other man to toss him the keys or something along those lines, but nothing happened.

'I'm waiting, soldier!'

'Oh! I fooled with some chemicals in Kowalski's lab while he wasn't looking. Long story short, I can't move my arms for 2 to 6 hours.'

'Give me strength!' Skipper said pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Where are the keys, you health and safety menace!'

'In my pants pocket.'

'Of course.' Gritting his teeth, Skipper pushed his hand in Rico's left pocket trying not to make eye contact, while the other man was watching him calmly with the beginning of a smile playing on his scarred lips. After about thirty seconds of his commanding officer fumbling about in his pants he said.

'My other pocket.'

**5. POW**

Hans was a difficult prisoner. Not in the sense that he would withhold information or he would become violent. No! He was a picky eater. Sometimes it was really hard to get some of the Danish dishes he asked for. Skipper was pretty sure he did it on purpose. But he also didn't want to see him go on a hunger strike just because he was a headstrong twat. What he absolutely refused to give him, though, were open sandwiches.


	2. Chapter 2

**1. First impression**

They had been summoned to the warehouse (how cliché) by a new maniac who threatened to obliterate the entire tri-state area if they didn't show up. So Skipper assembled his team: Johnson, Manfredi, Kowalski and Rico and went to see if this nut job was actually worth his words. You never knew what to expect with the new ones.

When they arrived, they were faced with a small army of men all dressed identically in red suits and at their head a mad scientist look alike. It was like he was a living, breathing movie trope. At least, Skipper knew what to expect. These guys loved to brag about their plans. Before they could say a word or make a move, the man said, with a vain smile.

'I am Dr. Blowhole!' a snort was heard from somewhere to Skipper's right and it soon turned into a howl of laughter. The evil genius looked around in consternation, not expecting his big introduction to elicit such a response. Skipper glanced to his right to see Rico laughing uncontrollably at the villain.

'What did you say?... What did he say his name was?... Oh, god! Hahaha!'

'As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupt…'

'And you guys willfully follow a guy that calls himself that?' Rico addressed the men in red still laughing. He was now doubled down, his knees hitting the asphalt floor and holding his sides. 'I can't, I can't.'

Rage was clear in the mad scientist's eyes (well, eye).

'I shall have revenge for this humiliation!' and both he and Skipper looked at the man rolling on the floor still laughing. 'Come!' he ordered his creepy, identical army and fled the warehouse with his ego bruised.

Skipper cautiously approached Rico.

'I don't know if that was planned or not, but good job nonetheless. You can stop now.'

'Wait, wait…I… BWAHAHAH!'

'Skipper, I'm concerned.' Said Kowalski.

**2. Dancing? [SkipperxPrivate]**

Julian had gotten into a bit of trouble, so the four of them had agreed to go and keep an eye out at his night club. Rico and Kowalski were on the upper floor, leaning on a metal rail, surveying the dance floor. Or they would have been if something very unusual hadn't caught their eye.

Kowalski knew that everybody knew Skipper didn't dance. But there he was. He was dancing… with Private. Kowalski didn't understand if this was for the mission or what was going on. He turned to Rico.

'I don't like not knowing what's going on'

_No kidding, genius boy_. thought Rico. He quirked an eyebrow at Kowalski, that seemed to transmit "It's pretty obvious, you high functioning idiot". Before Kowalski could enrich the ether with words of more than five syllables, two arms were slung around their shoulders.

'Looks like the silly, bossy one is having some fun, no?'

'Julian, don't say a word about this to Skipper. You know how he gets when he's angry.' Said Kowalski

'Please, smarty-pants!' said Julian, giving a few knocks to Kowalski's head.

'Ugh, not my cranium!'

'Do you think me that stupidy? A Skipper who has fun is better to everyone around him. Am I right?'

'He is right.' agreed Rico. They turned their heads back to the dance floor, but Skipper and Private were nowhere to be seen. 

**3. Intruder**

Private was startled from his sleep by a noise coming from downstairs. The other three members of the team were on a recon mission until the morning and had left him in charge of the HQ. He also probably shouldn't have watched that scary movie before bed, but when there's nothing on the telly… He grabbed the first thing that he could fashion into a weapon, which happened to be his bedside lamp, since he didn't sleep with guns or other lethal objects, like Skipper or Rico. He went out of his room and started descending the dark staircase to the ground floor, from where he could still hear noises. The telly was set to a children's animated station, but he was sure he turned it off when he went up stairs. A faint light was coming from the kitchen, so he went to investigate in there. Whoever it was they… were raiding his fridge? He approached as stealthily as possible, raised the lamp ready to strike and pushed the fridge door with his foot.

'Aaaah!'

'Aaaah!'

'Aaaah! Mort?'

The little boy dropped the food he had managed to get and bounded to Private, hugging him tight around the middle, up to where he reached.

'Why are we screaming?' he asked innocently. Private lowered the lamp, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

'Mort what are you doing here?'

'Julian went to the club. He took Maurice too, tonight. I got scared.'

'But how did you get in? The front door is under high security measures.'

'I came in through the back door' fixing his big, innocent eyes on Private in the semi-darkness.

'Mort! We… don't… have a back door!' sighing, he decided to leave it at that. 'So, you're hungry, huh?' Mort nodded.

In the morning, when the other three returned from their mission, the sight that greeted them was a sleeping Private, sprawled on the couch and on his chest a little, slumbering Mort. They decided to ignore the plates and glasses strewn about or the fact that the TV was blaring a children's cartoon.

**4. Pine [Kico]**

Kowalski was languishing on the couch again. Skipper could feel it was going to be like one of those Doris situations when he didn't get out of bed for weeks. He loathed it and he loathed the man for letting something like that get to him so badly. He hadn't been experimenting for days and all he did was move from his room to the couch and back. At least he attended training and meals. Skipper didn't want to think how he would handle it if a mission came around. But he didn't understand why his second in command was having one of his meltdowns. He didn't mention anybody and Doris was out of the picture as far as he knew. He looked down at the man lying on the couch, eyes closed.

'Kowalski, come on man! You gotta pull yourself together!' blue stared into blue for a few seconds, then Kowalski rose forcefully from the couch. Skipper was suddenly reminded about the one thing he envied Kowalski for. The height difference between them was extremely clear now and Kowalski was towering over him, frowning.

'What business is it of yours, if I'm in love or not?'

'If you act like that, it is.' Said Skipper pointing to the couch. 'At least tell me who it is, maybe I can help.'

Before the taller man could consider the offer, steps were heard from the staircase leading upstairs and moments later Rico entered the room. The panic that entered Kowalski's eyes told Skipper everything he needed to know. Rico had that odd feeling like when people were just moments ago talking about you and now they stopped. He eyed his teammates.

'What?' he asked suspiciously.

'Nothing, soldier.' Skipper tried to placate him with a good natured smile.

Rico continued on to the kitchen, throwing one back look to the duo in the living room. When they were sure he was out of ear-shot, Skipper turned to his lieutenant.

'Are you serious?!' Kowalski just slumped back down on the couch his face in his hands. After a few moments he lifted his eyes back up with a look that said "Pity me! I'm being sabotaged by my own brain and I don't want to fight back."

**5. Time-traveling nuisance **

Private descended the last step and there in front of him was Kowalski.

'Wow! Kowalski, how did you get down here faster than me? I was just talking to you back there a minute ago.'

'No, Private. I'm from the future…'

'No, no, no! Not this again. Sod this! You can go find yourself another clod to listen to you prate about your paradoxes and time-space continuum collapses. I'm out of here!' and with that he left a Kowalski, who put the effort of time-traveling to find him, baffled in the middle of the hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

**1. Holiday spirit**

Each one of them hated a different holiday for their own reasons.

Private didn't see the point of Thanksgiving. At the first one he attended, his first year in America, he felt like an alien. He was familiar with the turkey from Christmas dinners back home, but all the other things surrounding this holiday got so under his skin. Those great, big parades were ruined by chilly November weather. He absolutely despised American football. A ball (if that oval thing could be called that) wasn't made to be picked up, it was to be kicked. And what a silly notion, that you needed a national holiday to tell you when to be thankful.

Kowalski really found intolerable the whole idea of Groundhog day. He didn't see why the whole of a country as large as America could celebrate something as illogical as a weather predicting rodent. Little mammals couldn't tell if spring was coming or not. But he had to admit, the movie was good.

Rico just couldn't stomach Valentine's Day. Literally. Around the beginning of February he could see everything around him turn pink and he would know that the horror was coming. He did his best not to look directly at the garish colour and at the increasing hearts and he was in the clear…mostly. But when the big day rolled around he was completely out of order. He could feel all the mushiness floating around in the atmosphere and it took all he had not to puke his guts. He couldn't turn on the TV from all the romantic sap, he couldn't go out of the house because of all the happy couples being couple-y together. Most of the times he preferred to hole himself up somewhere and wait it out.

Skipper had really grown to hate April Fool's day in the last years. Ever since the pest that was Julian had learned what it entailed, he had made it his duty to prank every one of his acquaintances each year. Skipper was getting really tired and was aching for some good retaliation. His honour was saying he was better than that fool, though.

**2. Down in New Orleans Implied [Kico]**

The team had a mission in New Orleans. Somehow Julian had managed to come with them, despite Skipper's very vehement protests, blathering something about Mardi Gras, although it was nowhere near Mardi Gras season. The mission had gone smoothly and with minimal intervention from Julian this time. Granted, he was distracted by all the music and eclectic life in the French Quarter.

They had one more night in Louisiana before heading back up north. Skipper and Rico decided they wanted to sample the local cuisine, leaving Private and Kowalski in the "capable" hands of Julian, who had already become acquainted with the tourist circulated parts of the city. The three strolled along The French Quarter in the stuffy, humid New Orleans night. Even though the mission was over, Kowalski was not relaxed. A slight frown was marring his features and his focus was on something only he knew.

'Kowalski is something wrong? Did something go wrong with the operation?' asked a concerned Private. Kowalski turned a distracted gaze to his younger teammate.

'Oh. No Private. Nothing of the sort. For the last couple of weeks I can't find a suitable scientific idea to occupy my mind and materialize into a useful tool for the team. It's really never happened.' From his other side an excited sound came.

'I know what would help you, brainy one!' said Julian grinning his pearly white teeth with maniac glee at him. He grabbed Kowalski's hand and dragged him a few steps further before a shop with a glowing advertisement "Psychic". 'Ta-dah!'

'For the love of Einstein! All these people are frauds!'

'Oh, come on Kowalski, it could be fun.'

'Fun, pfff!' Not waiting anymore, Julian pushed them both into the incense filled shop. The woman that greeted them looked like a Voodoo queen.

'So, can you speak with the sky spirits, pretty lady?' The woman gave Julian a strange look, but she was probably accustomed with people asking her weird questions or putting her under tests in her line of work.

'Which one of you wants a reading?' she asked the trio.

'We're here for my friend.' Private said, tilting his head towards Kowalski, who had a closed off air about him. The woman gave him a once over than closed her eyes.

'I feel your divine inspiration is being blocked off.'

'Uuuu!' came from Julian.

'That doesn't prove anything.' Countered Kowalski.

'It is by your own fault that you don't receive anymore inspiration. I see a dark haired person.'

'The majority of the human population has dark hair' scoffed Kowalski.

The Psychic snapped her eyes open. 'You have feeling for this person' his two companions turned their eyes to him. 'They work in the same field as you.' Private got a suspicious and confused look on his face.

'Uh…well…I…' tried Kowalski.

'I can't believe I'm saying this, because I think you have no chance with that attitude of yours' said the psychic woman 'but my friends on the other side…'

'So you do speak with the sky spirits!'

'As I was saying… they said you should open yourself to these feelings. Once this is resolved, your brain will be uncluttered and you will have your inspiration back.' Kowalski glared at the woman for a good part of a minute, before storming out of the store, leaving two surprised friends in his wake.

**3. He's the Doctor**

No… That definitely sounded like Nigel's voice. Why wasn't he announced of the visit and why hasn't anyone called him when the man arrived. This is so unprofessional. He thought he taught his team better. Skipper made his way downstairs, pushing to the back of his mind, for the moment, the fact that he had an unannounced guest in his HQ and the bad form behavior of his team. When he got to the living room he saw Private sprawled on the couch, watching TV. He looked around confused.

'Where is he?'

'Where's who, Skipper?' Private asked confused.

'Your Uncle Nigel. I'm sure I heard his voice.' Private looked at him worriedly, but also amused.

'It's just me here, Skipper. I'm watching the new 12th Doctor, Doctor Who series.' The man on the screen spoke again and Skipper was dumbstruck.

'Aren't you hearing that. That man sounds exactly like your uncle.'

'You think so? Meh…'

**4. (Not) God**

'I really don't know what to do, Private. I'm not God, you know?' said an irritated Skipper to a panicking Private.

'And there goes my whole belief system!' came a smooth answer from Kowalski.

**5. Exercise [Kico]**

Kowalski let his head drop on the work surface in his lab. It was useless. Nothing productive was coming to the surface of his brain, not one good idea. He had even tried remodeling some of his old inventions, updating them. After three of them blew up in his face he gave up.

Few people knew that when his brain refused to cooperate with him, which was a rare occasion in and of itself, Kowalski liked to take a break and do some physical exercises. It was what he planned to do now. Skipper had announced the next day as a day off, so that was how he got away with staying in his lab after curfew. He expected his teammates to be in their respective quarters. He must have been right, he found the HQ deserted while he made his way upstairs to the second floor, where the training room was.

He came to the entrance, but stopped dead in his tracks. There in the training gym was Rico, in a sleeveless top, his hands in boxing hand wraps, fully concentrated on hitting and kicking a punching bag. His eyes traveled along the body in front of him, taking in every detail: flexing muscles, firm set jaw, determined look in his eyes.

The first thing sighted was his reflection in the wall of mirrors in the far wall of the room. Turning to deliver a punch with his left arm, Rico saw the man reflected in the mirror. Then saw the… calculating look he was giving him from his position in the doorframe. He turned his head to look at the real Kowalski. Noticing that he's been found out, Kowalski made a tentative step into the room.

'I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt.'

'No… Not at all. Can I help you?' sensing an opportunity opening right in front of him Kowalski said.

'Actually… Could you show me some of those moves?'

'Sure.' Answered Rico with a smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

**1. Concussion**

They all had found it amusing at the beginning, but they also thought that it would pass after an hour or maybe two. Those sewer dwellers had really done a number on Kowalski's head and none of the three of them knew what to do. The solutions always came from Kowalski, now reduced to speaking nonsense.

That is why they were now sitting on three chairs outside a hospital room waiting for a doctor to tell them what was wrong with their friend's head. Looking through the glass partition, they could see Kowalski staring at the ceiling with a dazed look on his face. It had been very frustrating for him not to be able to properly communicate what he was thinking. Finally, a doctor approached the three men.

'Hello, I'm doctor Gupta. I examined your friend, in there.' Skipper gave him a hostile look the doctor didn't know how to interpret. 'Hmm, right. So, Mr. Kowalski has suffered a mild concussion to the Wernicke's area of the cerebral cortex that caused him temporal expressive aphasia.' Skipper regaled him with a blank stare, while Rico and Private cast worried glances at Kowalski.

'Speak English, man!'

'He hit his head…'

'Well technically he didn't hit it, someone else did.'

'Right…Well, that hit affected the part of the brain that has to do with speech and now he talks like that. It's not severe and it will pass.'

'Phew! Good! We were getting worried.'

'Can we go see him?' asked Private

'Yes, you are within visiting hours.'

**2. Present***

They had decided a long time ago when it came to gifts, birthday, Christmas or any other kind. One team member would get a gift from his remaining teammates and so on. They would do the same this Christmas, only Skipper had invited Marlene over, so to Private's short lived disappointment present opening was moved to later in the day.

They were now in the living room, gathered around a pile of, more or less, nicely wrapped gifts.

'Ladies first.' said Skipper, handing Marlene her present. She looked at the square parcel with anticipation, then started tearing the festive wrapping open.

'Oh! A Spanish guitar compilation! I love it, you guys!' Marlene exclaimed enthralled. Skipper leaned over to point on the CD.

'It even has that guy you like so much. Enrico Guitarro, was it? Aptly named, by the way.' He gave her one of his disarmingly charming smiles. She carefully placed her gift off to one side and turned back.

'Now my present will seem lame in comparison.' She said slightly pouting her lips. 'You know that super action blockbuster movie franchise you guys love so much? Of course you do. And you know how they're releasing a special feature for the holidays to come out actually on the 27th? Of course you do.' All four men were watching her, unable to get a word in edgewise. 'Well, I reserved you all early tickets to the premier. I know how you like to see a spoiler free movie.' An excited, big eyed Skipper was immediately in her face.

'You got us tickets to _Santagore: Full Metal Red Sleigh Down!_? Top that men!'

'I wasn't aware this had become a competition.' Said Kowalski's slightly cold voice. 'Go ahead and take your present Skipper.' Spurred Kowalski. The commander picked up the box with his name on it and weighed it in his hands.

'It's quite heavy. What is this?' he eyed his men, while opening it. He looked very pleased when he saw what the brightly coloured wrapping paper hid underneath.

'We thought you needed a new kit for maintaining your weapons, Skipper.' Said Private with the most innocent voice. 'Yours was getting kinda old and, you know, overused.' Marlene was a bit shocked that this is what they though was an appropriate Christmas gift, but she had learned a long time ago to just go with it.

'Top notch idea, men! Go ahead, young Private! Open yours!' Private couldn't hide the excited smile that made its way on his face as he picked up his present. It was a light, rectangular shaped box. After he saw what it actually was, he gave a happy squee.

'A mini golf console game! Yeah!' he exclaimed, almost bouncing on the spot where he was sitting on the floor.

'With the sole condition that I don't have to ever play with you. Ever.' Said Skipper.

'Aww! C'mon! Scared that I would whoop your …'

'Private!'

'True though!' the younger one said, smiling confidently. The leader let it slide, this time.

'Rico…' the commander indicated that the man could be next to have his Christmas gift. Rico nodded enthused. Marlene never ceased to be amazed at their discipline and, in this case, patience in the face of keeping their hands off their own Christmas presents. Rico picked up the rectangular parcel and examined it a bit. What was this…

'A book?' he asked before he even opened it. The other three were taken aback. They nodded.

'I told you he wouldn't like it Kowalski. Who gives books to Rico?' said Skipper in an exasperated tone. 'No offence, compadre.'

'Offence taken.' He opened the wrapping. Kowalski came to sit next to him on the couch.

'It's about the Filthy Thirteen. Have you ever heard about them?' Rico shook his head "no". 'They were a demolition section of the US Army in WWII. I think you'll like them.'

'Thanks.'

'And now, Kowalski.' Skipper handed him his gift. He opened the rather smallish box to discover an ordinary looking rock inside. 'It's a martian meteorite.'

'How do you know?'

'Aww. Don't be a party pooper. You can go analyze it in your lab.' Said Private.

'Later.' Said Skipper, seeing the look Kowalski was getting on his face.

'Skipper what's with that gift left over?' asked Private confused, pointing to a present standing alone where just minutes ago was a pile. They all looked confused at each other. As none of them seemed to know where it came from, Skipper picked it up to examine it closer. It had a note attached, that said "Glædelig jul!" and underneath signed "Julemanden". Skipper sighed and rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, I think this is highly dangerous, men. I'll just take it out of the way for now.' He started ascending up the stairs to their sleeping quarters.

'It's highly dangerous and you're taking it to your room?!' asked Private but got no answer in return.

**3. Tux**

When he came to America, Private was quite young. He first had to complete the compulsory schooling imposed by the state of New York before he could enlist at the required age of 17. So he attended his one and only prom. He had asked a very nice, brown haired girl to be his date and she had said yes at once, 'cause who could say "no" to that cute face and puppy dog baby blue eyes.

On the night of the shindig he did the manly equivalent of what girls do to get all pretty. But maybe less manly too. His unofficial five teammates were waiting downstairs when he came in the room. From the couch, Skipper turned his eyes towards him.

'Why, hello there, Mr. Tux!'

Cold dread caught Private's heart in a vice grip and he couldn't speak nor move for a few moments. All that went through his head was "how", before his brain caught up with the rest of him and realized that Skipper was talking about the fact that he was wearing a tuxedo. For his prom. He swore the and there that he'd never let his teammates find out about his unquiet past. Of course, that promise was broken very quickly, thanks to a wacky Texan, but for that evening it would do.

**4. Snake in the grass**

'…_not even the time I forced him to suck the cobra venom, from my left buttock.'_

Their Louisiana mission had been a success and afterwards Kowalski and Private had gone off with that pest, Julian, God knew where. Skipper and Rico just wanted a good, old meal to fill their stomachs after a hard day's work. When that was done with, they were left with a free evening and nothing to do.

'Come on, Rico. Let's take a walk, see what's happening in this crazy city.' Rico shrugged, happy to do whatever just to brake the lull.

They walked for a while from the café/bistro in the French Quarter where they had their dinner, until they reached a park.

Rico held out one finger in front of him. 'I don't think we're allowed in the park after sunset, Skipper.' Then he raised two fingers 'Are you taking me on a let night date? Dinner and a park?'

'Snark, snark snark! Shut up! I though you were more of a rebel than that.' Rico shrugged again and followed his commander into the dark greenery. After a few more minutes of walking they neared a body of water, reflecting the artificial lighting. Skipper inhaled deeply.

'I love the smell of grass and water. Don't you love Mama Nature?' Rico raised his eyebrow, not knowing if he should get worried. Skipper sat down in the grass, but a moment later yelped back up.

'Patton's war medals, I think something bit me! Through my jeans? What in…' Rico cast his eyes down where Skipper was sitting not moments ago in time to catch a darkly coloured snake slither away. Panic struck him and it grew when he heard a cry coming from the other man.

'Oh my Goood!, it hurts like hell! What was that? It burns my…'

'It was a snake.'

'A snake? Jesus! Did you see what kind of snake it was? What if it was venomous? Oh, I'm gonna die in my prime!'

'Like I'm a snake expert!'

'It must be venomous! It hurts! I know, suck it out!' Skipper said, gripping Rico by the shoulders. With a bewildered look, the man answered.

'Suck what, from where?'

'The venom, from my wound! Do you want me to order you?' Rico pondered for a moment and then nodded. 'This is my life you're toying with, you maniac! Are you in cahoots with that snake?' After a long suffering sigh, Skipper mustered his commander voice. 'Rico, I order you to man up and suck the venom from my wound!'

'I still don't think this is a good idea… I've heard Kowalski say…'

'DO IT!'

'Why don't we call an ambulance?' _It's what any sane person would do_ thought Rico, but he kept that part for himself.

'You know why I don't like doctors, soldier!' Rico nodded, remembering Skipper's irrational fear of needles. He finally got to the unseemly deed, cursing all the gods and wishing that the man whose backside he was helping get venom free would have let him rot in the hell hole he had found him in years ago, when he heard from above.

'Rico, I can't breathe…'

Thank God the hospital was stocked with the appropriate anti-venom. But he would have such a big "I told you so" for Skipper when he woke up. The attending on the ambulance had told him that sucking venom from a wound was very bad. Not without causing him some embarrassment, knowing where Skipper's wound was.

**5. Morning after [Kico]  
**

On Sunday mornings Skipper let his men enjoy some extra hours of sleep. On this particular morning even more so, since in a rare fit of social impulse, they had attended one of Julian's wild parties.

It wasn't too late in the morning and he was sure he had seen Private somewhere downstairs. Skipper was currently perched on a step ladder mending a faulty security system installed on the hallway where their sleeping quarters were. He heard the door to Rico's room open, but didn't bother looking back, too focused on his task.

Rico spared his commander a brief "Morning, Skipper" in a sleep roughened voice, before crossing the hallway to the bathroom for a morning shower. He passed a hand through his bed disheveled hair, making it even messier.

After about a minute, Skipper heard Rico's bedroom door open…again. He paused, then turned around slowly. Behind him stood his lieutenant in pajama bottoms and a black band T-shirt, a bit big for his lean built. Skipper stared for a few moments, before he put two and two together.

'Is this wise, Kowalski? I thought you were a rational man.' The other man only threw him a contemptful look. He then started making his way downstairs in hopes of finding some breakfast and maybe ditching his superior. Alas, Skipper came after him.

'I'm really happy Private's room is not on the same side as yours and Rico's. God knows what he would have heard…'

'Yes that's why you're happy. Not that his room is next to yours.' Kowalski threw over his shoulder. Skipper's step faltered for only a second, maybe less, but he gave the back of Kowalski's head the fiercest scowl to ever grace the back of a man's head.

When they reached the kitchen, Private was already there making breakfast. It wasn't usually his job, but since he was up earlier he said to make himself useful-er than he usually was.

'Morning, Skipper! Morning, Kowalski! You look happy this morning Kowalski!'

'Ow! Don't encourage him, Private!'

***I only wrote this one so I could mention the Filthy Thirteen. They were really cool. Check them out! Also, if you can tell me the three war movies referenced in that made up film title you can have whatever you want, even a submission. **


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter was inspired by the Natalie Merchant song "Ophelia". It's an experiment I wanted to do for a while. Each subchapter represents a different incarnation of the characters in another life. **

**WARNING: some parts may contain some disturbing imagery. **

**1. Kowalski***

_Fragments from "History of the Carthusian Order" _

[…] The Charterhouse of Geronde in the district of Sierre, Switzerland, began its brief Carthusian history in the middle of the XIVth century. The medieval monastery no longer exists, but it became for a short period of time infamous for the controversy caused by one monk. Brother Ioannes, also known by his contemporaries as Ioannes Faber, began his postulancy a few decades before the Charterhouse was turned over to the use of an order of Carmelite nuns. He became very quickly acquainted with herbs and their uses, especially in the medicinal field. In his novice years, he tended the cloister garden along side the brother in charge of it and the hospital. But medicinal herbalism didn't captivate his attention for long and it most certainly did not create the controversy that almost got him excommunicated. […] His interest in alchemy grew exponentially, despite the ambiguous view the Catholic Church maintained on the subject. Medieval alchemy is mainly know nowadays for its search for the Philosopher's Stone, an answer to man's immortality and, at the same time, a more materialistic goal of turning metals into the purest one, gold. Brother Ioannes' began for the same purposes, but after many failures he became fascinated with its other aspects. He did experiments in metallurgy and even did the first experiments with _aqua regia_ in his trials to obtain gold. He wrote in one of the rare documents identified as his, that he found out the information about _aqua regia_ and its uses in the work of a Muslim alchemist, Jabir ibn Hayyan, he found buried in a corner of the monastery's library, but unfortunately banned by the Christian Church at the time. […] His alchemical interest was eventually viewed as excessive. Some sources suggest that there may have been persons who deliberately attracted the Church authorities' attention on him. A trial took place…

**2. Marlene**

** SUFFRAGE PROTESTORS ARRESTED **

A group of women protestors from the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU) were arrested yesterday outside Buckingham Palace. The eight women were picked up by the police after they were found some chained to the Palace gates, while others disturbing the peace chanting in a form of protest. When asked by one of our reporters what they were protesting for or against the answer was: the right for women to vote and "Prime Minister Asquith's cowardice to go back on the document that would have given even a restricted number" of them that right. The detained protestors were taken to Holloway Prison.

(_The Daily Mirror 1913_)

**CONDITIONS IN LONDON'S HOLLOWAY PRISON **

[…] Although well aware of the drastic measures the prison authorities are given free hand to, our fellow WSPU members arrested in the Buckingham Palace incident went on hunger strikes. One brave young woman, who chose to remain anonymous, not because of the faithful readers of this journal, but because of the men in authority in whose hands it might fall, gave me a first hand account of the barbaric procedure of force feeding through which prisoners are put.

'They took me out of my cell and into a room with a bed, one of those that you can find in an infirmary ward, in the middle of it.' she recounted to me 'There was a doctor and a nurse and a few of the women custodians that patrolled the halls. They held my arms and legs, while a very long tube was shoved down one nostril. Sometimes in the right one, sometimes in the left one. It was a searing, extreme pain and it made me gag every time. The first few times I used to trash about, but I learned quickly that it aided nothing. It was always a very disturbing experience to see all those people hovering above me and overpower me, while I was undergoing such pain and humiliation. I truly do not enjoy talking about this' she added, after a brief pause 'it really took a toll on my body and my mind.'

(_The Suffragette 1913)_

**GOVERNMENT PASSES PRISONERS ACT **

The Prisoners (Temporary Discharge for Ill Health) Act was passed today, the 25th of April,. by the Government. Prime Minister Asquith passed the Act both as a response to the suffragette prison hunger strikes and the overwhelming public pressure that came with them. The Prisoners Act will allow the release of prisoners showing signs of bad health with the condition of their immediate detainment upon their recovery. […]

(_The Daily Mirror 1913_)

**3. Skipper****

_Fragments from letters to his sister_

Dear Brenda,

Perhaps California was not such a bad idea after all. Some luck is coming my way at last. Yesterday I answered an add in the paper (of all places) that sounded: _Auditions: Rock & Roll musicians wanted for the new sensation band of the moment. Looking for 4 insane boys, age17-21. Must come down for interview. _I went down to the agency expecting some sort of scam by the look of that add (insane boys?). Surprisingly, it wasn't. The gist is: some producers want to form a Rock & Roll band (like the Beatles, I've seen you and your friends soon over them when they play them on the radio). They say they want to hand pick each member of the group for maximum success. Seems odd, but I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. […]

[…] We're working hard. Sal is planning our first nation-wide tour, after he got the news our song hit number one. I'll make sure to send you and your friends some tickets if you want. […]

[…] This fame game is dangerous, Brenda. All these girls screaming a guy's name can really turn your head. Speaking of which, I really think I'm falling for this really swell girl. She started working for Sal just a few weeks ago, but I really think she's my dream girl. You know what I mean? […]

[…] I am getting tired of this. I would like it to end or at least take a break from all the attention. It gets overwhelming sometimes, like the eye of the whole nation is turned on us. But Sal just turns a deaf ear to any request. At least my love life is improving. Your little brother has turned into a romantic, can you believe it?

Brenda,

I have been drafted for the Vietnam war. I know what you're going to say and I think I am resigned to the idea. In any case I do not think there is much I can do to fight it. If any thing, it gives me a way to escape the hustle of "rock stardom". What an escape, eh? You are the first person I'm telling. […]

Miss Jones,

I regret very much to inform you that your brother, Private D. R. Jones No 15967 of this Company was killed in action on the night of the 11th. During an assault by the opposing forces he bravely sacrificed his life to shelter comrades who had run out of ammunition. The entire company deeply sympathizes with your loss. For his act of outstanding courage he will be awarded the Medal of Honour.

The body and his effects will reach America in due course.

In true sympathy,

Commanding Officer C. M. Davies

**4. Hans, Julian & Maurice*** **

_Fragments from a journal_

Tuesday, May 17th 1768

Finally arrived on the coast of Madagascar. I love being a trader, but sometimes I forget these long journeys confined to the surface of one ship or the strangeness of foreign lands. Me and my other fellow Frenchmen were greeted by locals who claimed that their king was expecting us. How he knew about our arrival was beyond me. Only one of them spoke French and he informed us that it would give his Highness great pleasure to travel to Antananarivo for a visit (although the way he put it we were not left with much choice). […]

Thursday, May 19th 1768

[…] From what I can tell, this king Merina is no ordinary king. I knew about their ancestor worship, but these people seem to think that this man has been chosen by their ancestors and once he became king he reached a status of divinity close, if not on the same level with theirs. I wanted to understand more, so I sought out that one fellow who is such a rare flower here, the one who speaks my language. In fact, we became quite friendly on the journey to the capital, as one would do with the only link to foreign culture. His explanations were quite enlightening. He told me that for them the king was the gateway between the living world and the spirit world. Merina plays and important religious role in their lives too and it's paramount that his purity be preserved in all things. That answered my curiosity of why he never walked anywhere and why his feet never touched the ground. My Madagascan friend says it is sacrilege for the king's feet to touch the earth or other things considered "impure".[…]

Friday, May 20th 1768

My traveling companions and myself were given the great honour of dinning with the king and his mother, the Royal Dowager. I will have to swallow all my bad thoughts I harboured about him. In fact, he is an educated young man and he took the time to go into the details of how the system of the king's election works. Apparently the Queen Mother is the maker and breaker of kings in this country, as she can approve or dismiss them if she finds them unfit. I wonder what the monarchs back in Europe would find of this kind of power in the hand of a woman. If they succeed, they then must be approved of by the people. He put it very nicely: "a prince does not install a king". […]

**5. Private & Rico**

_Fragments from the notes of a psychiatric ward doctor_

Received new shell shock case today: CASE 8160. More info as patient observation progresses.

CASE 8160 is perhaps not the worst ever, but the worst case of shell shock I have ever observed to date. Patient exhibits headache, hypersensitivity to noise (to the extreme), selective mutism and fugue. Also, patient exhibits traces of lacerations on his upper body (relatively fresh).

Found CASE 8160, while on night guard duty, wandering the corridor outside his ward. He was in a clear state of fugue. Tried to make a break for it. Patient exhibits this wish of escape in therapy sessions as well. I have taken to locking the door and closing the windows, since he has tried to escape several times. When his efforts prove futile he reverts to aggression and then to a state of numbness.

When therapy works and his selective mutism is temporarily overcome, CASE 8160 is very talkative and nice company. He chose to share the information that his battalion called him "Hurricane" after the plane he used to ride into battle.

It has been brought to my attention by the attending nurse, that CASE 8160 has attempted suicide the previous night with an overdose of drugs. This attempt may retroactively explain the lacerations I had observed when I saw him in our first meetings.

*** There really was a Geronde Charterhouse in Switzerland and a Jabir ibn Hayyan, but Ioannes is purely my invention. **

**** That add is almost word for word as the one sent out by the producer of the band **_**The Monkees**_

***** The name of the king, Merina, is actually the name of the Madagascan monarchy. But I am almost sure that they didn't worship their king as some sort of god-king or spirit-king. I added that as poetic license. **


	6. Chapter 6

**1. Model **

The job had put them in ridiculous situations before, but this one took the cake by far. They had to go undercover as models at a runway show when it was obvious they had no business there whatsoever. Well, most of them…

Skipper had to really go over it with the fashion show producer, almost to the point of threatening him. Almost. Thankfully, the gig was over and the bad girl (it was refreshing to see the female presence in the crime world increase, frankly) was caught. Skipper and his team were on their way out when the fashion producer approached them again. Not so much approached them as yelled after them.

'Hey, Blondie!' Private and Kowalski both turned their heads, although the latter took a little offence to the name. 'Not you Long John Silver!' said the man throwing a disdainful look Kowalski's way, who let out a strangled sound. The fashion industry man came closer to Private sporting a look on his face akin to that of a connoisseur chef in a meat market. 'Oh, look at that bone structure, that skin, those eyes. The hair is…meh…but I can work with that' it was unclear who he was talking to. During his little speech he had grasped Private's face and turned his head from side to side so he could better observe the young man's features. All four men scowled at the same time, but it didn't seem to bother or deter him in the least. He continued his tirade, this time addressing the object of his observation. 'Kid, you were great out there. You three, not so much…'

'I know for a fact that is not true.' Intervened Kowalski already reaching his quota of what he could take of this guy. 'I have met my temporal doppelganger and we, sir, are smoking hot!' It was obvious that some of the words Kowalski had just used had gone over the guy's head. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the strategist instead going on with his shtick.

'Listen, why don't you give me a call when you get tired of playing "special operations" or whatever with these guys. Which will be sooner rather than later, I bet' he reached in his breast pocket to get a card. Skipper had had quite enough of this clown and his smug smile. He pushed forward and pushed the guy backwards with a hand on his chest.

'Step off, Mr. Fancy Suit. He's not buying what you're selling. Either that or I let Rico off his leash.' The man looked scared, not the right amount, but he was scared and also confused. Leash? Skipper nodded with his head towards Rico, who gave a serene smile and said.

'What are you saying, mister? You're saying _I_ can't make it on the runway life? Look at this mug. It's freaking adorable'

'Yeah it is!' came Kowalski's enthusiastic response. 'I mean, yeah it is.' Mr. Fancy Suit's eyes were the size of saucers.

'You're all insane!' he screamed while making sure he put as much distance between him and the four men as humanly possible. When he was just a speck on the horizon (not sure that's possible in a building, but there you are), Private turned to his teammates.

'I concur with Mr. Fancy Suit this time. You didn't even give me the opportunity to say no to his face. Like I'd ever want to leave you guys.'

**2. A Bother**

Steak outs were most of the times a dance with Lady Luck, as Skipper liked to say (he really loved to endow female attributes to abstract notions). Sometimes you came out empty handed, sometimes you waited hours or days until something interesting would happen. Perhaps that night would be a productive one.

They had settled in their car outside the building, a normal looking block of flats, prepared for the evening's waiting. The car was somewhat conspicuous, a big, black 4x4 that surely stood out like a sore thumb in that neighborhood. But Skipper liked it and their other car was in the shop. Managing explosives was sometimes a pain in the exhaust pipe. It was the middle of winter and freezing cold outside, but also it gave them the advantage of an early nightfall. Ignoring any social norm that would forbid another man to do so seeing as it was a freezing _winter_ **night**, Skipper was wearing dark sunglasses.

It was several hours later and boredom had settled thoroughly over them. Skipper and Kowalski had gone through several games of "Twenty Questions" and Rico was on Kowalski's trusty tablet, the one he used to configure plans and store data whenever he wasn't in his lab, trying to find something interesting to do. Private had fallen asleep curled on the backseat almost with his head on Rico's lap, but when he started drooling he got a shove down.

Everything had been quiet in the car for some minutes when a tap came from Skipper's window. In the orange streetlight he could see a man, all bundled up against the biting cold, scowling at them. Skipper pushed his glasses down, so he could better see the man, then rolled down the window letting in the winter chill. Without any introduction, the man started:

'You're not supposed to be here!'

'I'm pretty sure I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.' Answered Skipper and rolled the window back up. He turned to Kowalski trying to ignore the guy in the hopes he would go away, but the knock came again.

'Hi!' said Skipper, giving the man his most charming smile.

'I'm Neighborhood Watch! I'm gonna call the cops to arrest you all. We don't need your sort round here doing shady things in a car!' ended the man, eyeing each and everyone of them, his gaze falling lastly on the still sleeping Private.

'You mean sitting?' asked Skipper. This wasn't what he had in mind for the evening, but at least it was a distraction from the mind numbing boredom. Kowalski intervened:

'Maybe we're here to help. Even thought about that?' his tone was hopeful, but he should have known better.

'You have a sleeping kid in your car!' the man raised his voice outraged, pointing to Private sleeping serenely on the backseat.

'Well, you're gonna wake him if you go on like that.' Countered Skipper.

Rico looked beside him at his younger teammate and his lips quirked in a smile. If this guy knew that that "kid" was a living weapon and he could break every limb in his body in under five minutes he wouldn't be in such a rush to jump to conclusions. He burst out laughing and turned to the man.

'Yeah! .We have a kid in our car!' the bothersome man's answer was cut by the sound of gunshots. Skipper was thankful. He could feel the urge to punch the guy through the rolled down window creeping over him and that wouldn't have ended well for anyone.

'Private, wake up!' he yelled to the back seat and then all four of them rushed out, one of them a tad more disoriented than the rest. A gaping man was left in their wake, staring at the fight that ignited right on his street, the street he was supposed to watch, but the thoughts of calling the police had been wiped out from his mind. He was mostly bewildered by how the youngest one kicked butt so impressively.

When it was all over, they trudged back to their car with scrapes and bruises already blooming on their skin. Kowalski, his lip bleeding and trying to dignifiedly hide a newly acquired limp, couldn't help himself.

'I told you so!'

'Kowalski, this is hardly the time to taunt civilians! But he did told you so.'

**3. Night Snack**

Kowalski woke up in the middle of the night with a persistent sensation of thirst that made his mouth feel dry and unpleasant. He never liked to bring glasses of water into his bedroom, but then again he disliked to go downstairs in the middle of the night just as well. It was a lose-lose. He got up from his cozy bed with a sigh and started his way down the stairs that led to the ground floor.

He got a serious scare when he saw a silhouette traced in the open window of the living room. It took him a few seconds until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room to realize it was Skipper. He was in sweats and a plain T-shirt as if he had dressed in a hurry, leaning against the window frame and biting ruefully from a Danish.

'I dreamed of Denmark again, Kowalski.' Skipper acknowledged his presence without turning. Kowalski was a little taken aback, but he shook it off quite quickly, his brain wanting the answer to a more logical question.

'Yeah, but where did you get the Danish at this hour?'

'I went and bought it from the non-stop corner shop, okay?' answered Skipper a bit miffed.

'Fair enough. Fair enough.'

**4. Doll**

Due to one of Kowalski's inventions (let's be serious, when wasn't something due to one of Kowalski's inventions?) Skipper had recently had a gender identity crisis. But despite his little stint in a woman's shoes he still had a somewhat stereotypical view towards the female species. Marlene had been just a bit offended that nothing had rubbed off on him. She knew that payback was petty, but she might have discovered just the thing one day by mistake and she couldn't let the opportunity pass her by.

She finally convinced Skipper to go with her to the mall one weekend. It was a Herculean task on its own. When she started to steer him towards the toy store, Skipper's paranoia started to flare up, but he went along. Marlene seemed to know exactly what she was looking for and she went straight to a doll stand all along dragging him by his arm. She picked a pink doll package and held it to her chest so he couldn't see the name.

'I just wanted to show you this.' She said turning the box over, showing a doll with a fake smile plastered over her face and at her feet, in big, bold letters the name "Skipper".

'What is this, a joke?' he asked.

'Of course it's a joke, a good one at that. What, haven't you ever heard of Barbie's little sister, Skipper?' retorted Marlene, her smile from ear to ear.

'Barbie's little…Skipper?' he was whispering while his voice was getting higher in pitch. As if anyone who would have been eaves dropping would have been interested or understood their conversation, or his little inner plight. 'She's not even a blonde, plastic, bomb-shell like her sister!'

'Ugh! Skipper!' exclaimed Marlene shaking her head in dismay. 'I'm getting this for you!' she added triumphantly starting to walk to the counter.

'Yeah, you do that!...I'm gonna give it to Private.' He muttered after her, ignoring the traumatic consequences of giving his youngest teammate a doll with his name.

**5. Positive**

When Rico got in one of his moods there were few things or people that could pull him out of it. That was why in his good-naturedness, thinking to make things better, Private once proposed to him to try and stay positive for a whole week then see if his life had improved or not. Rico accepted. What did he have to lose? And it made Private happy. That was always nice.

The week started normally enough. He did burn his tongue on that morning's coffee and lose most of his taste for half the day, but he kept it positive. Tuesday came around and the TV broke down. He loved that TV, but he just smiled and went to tinker with his weapons. Wednesday seemed he would get a break and he could genuinely pull off this positive shtick Private asked of him. That was until late in the evening when Kowalski asked him to help in the lab with some experiments. Let's just say one thing led to another and he knocked over some chemicals. Now Kowalski was angry with him for disturbing his precious experiments. He was very close to throwing in the towel, but Private's questioning face and big eyes made him give it another try.

Thursday everyone was out of the house and they had taken both cars. He needed to go take care of his own business, but apparently the Universe was out to get him that week. He put on his "positive outlook cap" and set out for the bus stop. After five minutes of waiting Marlene came along and she was with his worst nightmare, Shelly. He wanted to make a run for it, hide behind the bus sign pole, but both girls had spotted him. And wouldn't you know it, they were headed in the same direction. They talked his ears off, while he just nodded and smiled politely.

Friday he fell down the entire length of the stairs. Luckily he didn't break anything and that helped him keep "it positive". What finally broke him, though, was Saturday's mission. He had to disable an electric fence so they could enter a secret base, but something went bad and he got electrocuted. While laying on the ground, a bit dazed, Private's face came into view above him.

'Are you okay, Rico?' he asked, concern clear in his voice. Rico grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down.

'I got fried, Private. Can't put a positive spin on that, can you?' he pushed him aside then let his own head fall back to the ground, defeated.


End file.
